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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698068">Talking Heads</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/milfjuno/pseuds/milfjuno'>milfjuno</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Penumbra Podcast</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Brain Fuck Whatever You Want to Call It, Mind Meld, Mind Sex, Other, Thought Projection, all consensual, mind reading sex, sense8 style, they have sex in their heads, yes i said it</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:40:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,456</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29698068</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/milfjuno/pseuds/milfjuno</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I simply believe that mind-reading is slept on as a kink in the Penumbra fandom.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Peter Nureyev/Juno Steel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>155</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Talking Heads</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Upgrade from naming a fic after a song: naming a fic after a band.</p><p>Also I was stuck on writing something along this premise for literally a year until Amy was like 'yo haha if you wrote an E rated fic it would be the 300th E rated fic in the penumbra fandom' and i stayed up until 3am 2 nights in a row to finish this HAHA.</p><p>I haven't proofread this fic, die mad.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>First things first: it’s an accident.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Days under a torture regime have made it easier for Juno to be outside of his own head than in it. Which isn’t necessarily a </span>
  <em>
    <span>new </span>
  </em>
  <span>feeling - only the things helping him float away from his own thoughts usually weren’t pulsing tumors in the back of his eye. That bit’s new.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s just so easy to let his consciousness rest up against Nureyev’s, now. He’s so fucking optimistic, more than any one person should have the right to be, so what’s the harm in taking a little bit of that optimism for himself?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It becomes a habit so automatic it just kind of… happens, when Juno closes his eyes or slumps against a wall. He always jerks his consciousness away if he can tell Peter’s in pain or hurting over something -- he knows that’s not his pain to pry on. But when he’s dreaming of a future Juno’s finding it harder and harder to picture himself in… what’s the harm?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So it’s an accident, when Juno’s eyes are closed and he’s trying not to think about the stabbing pain throughout his head. When he can feel Nureyev watching him but doesn’t have the energy to ask him what he’s thinking about. When his mind touches up against Nureyev’s and Nureyev’s thinking </span>
  <em>
    <span>he’s beautiful</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno’s eyes almost fly open. Worse, he almost snaps a retort. It’s so ingrained into him to outright challenge anything resembling a compliment. But instead of reacting, he grabs a hold of himself, and tries to calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev is still looking at him. This is not the time to be playing at romance… even if there’s something soothing in the idea of losing himself in a stupid fantasy about now, a fantasy where the only game they’re playing is hard-to-get.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>An image flits into his mind from Nureyev’s. It’s of Nureyev kissing him. There’s no specific location or context to it -- it’s formless as fantasies are wont to be. The kiss is passionate. It’s a kiss to celebrate their escape, Juno realises.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t want to dwell on that. On the sadness that rises in him like a bubble because Nureyev really believes they’re getting out of here, that they’ll kiss and hold each other and have their happily ever after. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno’s mind is going down a dark path, so… sue him, but he tunes back in. Just a little. Just to see if he can steal a little bit of that optimism back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s nice. Romantic even, chaste-- until it isn’t. And about when the Juno in Nureyev’s imagination falls back onto the bed Nureyev is imagining for the two of them, Juno switches himself off from his view into the fantasy. </span>
  <span>It’s not that he minds that Nureyev is fantasising about him, but it feels painfully voyeuristic to take a peek into Nureyev’s personal thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if he should tell Nureyev that he knows what he’s thinking about -- especially when the gentle hum of his arousal is present in a way that Juno can’t help but pick up on, even when he’s trying to stay out of Nureyev’s head.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It stops being a question of whether he should or not when it stops being a question of Nureyev’s comfort -- the truth is that Juno feels awkward knowing what’s going on and not saying… </span>
  <em>
    <span>something</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He readjusts himself, opens his eyes and clears his throat. “Um… Nureyev?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm?” Nureyev’s gaze fixates on Juno immediately. He’s used to Juno being cold to him unless he’s hurt or in need of some comfort, and that readiness to leap to his aid is obvious in how he tenses. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I--it’s nothing, just, um…” Juno starts, and realises he has no idea how to finish his sentence.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev stares at him in patient silence while he flounders for words. “It’s just… I thought I should let you know, um. That… with my mind reading…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The second he says that, Nureyev’s face changes. He closes his eyes slowly and smiles in an embarrassed way, “Ah.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” Juno says, glad that Nureyev has caught his drift. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Well. That’s... “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I didn’t catch too much of the details,” Juno cuts in. “Just, um. The general feeling.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He expects Nureyev to say something dismissive and for the both of them to move on from this terrible awkwardness already, but Nureyev only pins him with his bright-curious eyes. “Would you like to know the details?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” Juno says flatly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not,” Nureyev replies. He shrugs, and then lies back on the floor and stares up at the ceiling. “If it doesn’t harm you, physically, then perhaps a little escapism may be beneficial. For the both of us.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re not…” Juno frowns slightly, “Like, embarrassed?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Not particularly. In fact, this gives me rather a good platform to run some ideas past you. If any of the ideas I have now are… unfavourable, it’s best you let me know before we get to acting them out physically.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno snorts at that, “You seem pretty certain we’ll have sex eventually.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev lifts his head off the ground to look at Juno. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I had assumed you were interested.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s not that,” Juno dismisses, “Just… I’m having trouble thinking past our current situation. Who knows what will happen to us? Or…”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Or if, at the end of it, we’ll ever want to look at each other ever again?” Nureyev asks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno doesn’t say anything to that. After a moment of silence, Nureyev sighs and looks back up at the ceiling again. “I’ve been concerned about the same things. I suppose that’s why I have been escaping into fantasy every now and again. It’s nice to imagine a future in which you are not repulsed by me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A future in which </span>
  <em>
    <span>Juno </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t repulsed by </span>
  <em>
    <span>Nureyev</span>
  </em>
  <span>? Juno doesn’t know much, but he does know that that scenario should almost certainly be flipped around. But that’s what frightens him a little about this man he’s followed headfirst into almost certain death: there’s still a lot he doesn’t know about him. And every now and then, there are glimpses of him that speak to something… dark, under that shiny surface. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno swallows and shakes the thought, “Okay,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” Juno repeats, “I’ll… I’ll tune in to your fantasy, I guess. You can show me what you… wanna do with me. When we get out of here.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno lies down on the bumpy ground and lays his hands over his stomach. He’s far enough away from Nureyev that there’s no risk of them touching, and they’re oriented in different directions to each other, too: Nureyev vertical while Juno is horizontal along the back wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How does this work?” Nureyev asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s a conscious thought you’re having, so it’s easy on my end,” Juno explains. “Just… start thinking, and I’ll tune in.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno closes his eyes and lets himself fade back into Nureyev’s consciousness. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fantasy picks up where Juno had first tuned out; with Nureyev pressing him back onto a bed. The specifics don’t matter to Juno -- and evidently they don’t to Nureyev either, because the room itself beyond the bed is formless. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev kisses him, softly. Even the thought of it sends the sense memory of Nureyev’s lips on his rolling down his back like a wave of warm water. The Juno in Nureyev’s mind gasps when Nureyev’s teeth scrape just under his jaw, and the Juno in real life arches his head back a little, the thought of the sensation almost too real for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>God, he’s thought about those teeth so much, and the confirmation that Nureyev likes to use them to nip and bite has Juno half-hard already. Nueryev’s mouth moves down to Juno’s collarbone, and Juno is suddenly naked -- following the logic of fantasy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where do you like being touched?” Nureyev asks Juno. Not out loud, not to </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span>. His hand, in the fantasy, ghosts over Juno’s body. It is similar in shape to Juno’s, but different, too: Nureyev has imagined him with less scars, less hair than he really has. Some of the details of Juno’s body are hazy in his imagination.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev keeps hesitating from touching Juno, just brushing his hand over the skin, until Juno realises his earlier question </span>
  <em>
    <span>is </span>
  </em>
  <span>to him. When Nureyev’s hand brushes over Juno’s chest, he speaks out loud. “Yeah. There.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Here?” Nureyev asks the fantasy of Juno, and lets his thumb run over Juno’s tit. Juno’s physical body shudders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re pierced,” he says, and gets to watch in real time as Nureyev’s fantasy updates with the new information. Gets to feel the rush of arousal that runs through Nureyev’s body. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>In Nureyev’s mind, he presses kisses to the skin of Juno’s chest, between his tits. Then he shifts his attention, first his tongue and then one of his fangs hooking in the rings he imagines pierced in Juno’s nipple and </span>
  <em>
    <span>pulling</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno jolts and gasps, and the fantasy dissolves. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Juno,” Nureyev’s voice is real-- out loud-- and panicked. “Are you alright?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno blinks his eyes open and is disoriented, at first. A part of him is almost surprised he’s wearing clothes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sounded like you were in pain,” Nureyev is sitting up and squinting at him. Juno swallows. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It--wasn’t that,” he says, and Nureyev’s gaze flutters downwards for the first time. Juno feels the rush of heat that goes through his gut when his eyes land on Juno, obviously hard in his slacks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” he breathes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… almost like if I focus hard enough, I can feel it,” Juno says. “Feel what you want to do to me, or something--it’s hard to explain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh,” Nureyev says again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s… not bad. You don’t have to stop, I mean,” Juno continues, a little rushed, and Nureyev looks up to meet his eyes again, smirking. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Enjoying yourself?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno sees no shame in being honest. He shrugs a shoulder, “Think that’s fairly obvious.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev lies back on the ground again, and Juno follows suit. He closes his eyes again, and lets himself back into Nureyev’s mind. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Something he can’t get over is the tenderness: Juno had imagined Nureyev to be the hard-and-fast type, but the dedication he shows even in a fantasy to devoting himself to exploring Juno’s body is… different. Good different.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His kisses lift back to Juno’s lips, and his hand slips down past his belly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m assuming, here,” Nureyev says to Juno in his mind, “tell me if I have assumed incorrectly.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What he’s assuming about, it is made clear to Juno in a second when Nureyev leans back to look, is what his genitalia look like. He has it mostly right, although-- Juno clears his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re being a little, uh… generous with the proportions.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Nureyev in Nureyev’s mind only laughs, “It’s a fantasy. I think I’m allowed a little poetic license.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he wraps his hand around Juno’s cock, things like imaginary inches immediately become unimportant. Juno’s physical cock jumps in his pants, and he reaches a hand down, barely stopping himself from palming himself through the fabric. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You can feel some of the physical sensations that I do, can’t you?” Nureyev asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yeah.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hm,” Nureyev smiles, and with his free hand, guides Juno's between his legs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Dry heat rockets up through Juno’s core, and he spasms. “Oh my God,” he mumbles, almost delirious, “Are you t--touching yourself?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Does it bother you that I am?” Nureyev asks.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“No,” Juno breathes. The sensation is too weird for words -- in the mindscape they’ve created, Juno is rocking two of his fingers against Nureyev’s dick through his underwear while Nureyev presses him back into the bed, kissing him and stroking his cock. But the physical pleasure Juno feels is distinctly Nureyev’s-- a different sensation entirely to the one he is imagining. He can sense Nureyev’s hand on his cock just as surely as he can feel Nureyev’s fingers on his own dick.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Juno pants, “I--don’t have a change of clothes, shit, I can’t--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We were given napkins with our food,” Nureyev suggests in his mind, “If you don’t mind the lack of delicacy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing delicate about this situation in general: lying on the floor of a torture chamber about to come in his goddamn pants off the heady sensation of Nureyev touching himself.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Juno at least undoes his pants, and gets a hand around himself even if only to try and minimise the mess he’ll make if Nureyev keeps going at the pace he is. He can feel Nureyev’s body tightening, can hear his breath coming faster from across the room. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The fantasy shifts, and now Nureyev is fucking Juno, and Juno whimpers. He can feel how badly Nureyev wants it, and it only fans his own desire.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He can tell Nureyev is close, and as he gets there he starts to slow down a little, the frantic rubbing turning to languid circles that pull deep in Juno’s gut. The fantasy is still intense, but it shifts again -- Nureyev kissing Juno softly while he fucks him with longer, deeper strokes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Juno spits again. “Goddamn, Nureyev--” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev makes a shuddering gasp across the room, and Juno has barely a second to process it before Nureyev is coming, which means Juno is too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lines between their sensations blur and distort. Juno can feel his cock twitching and his walls throbbing and the wetness on his hand and the wetness between his legs. He can feel the orgasm in his own body, and echoes of it from Nureyev’s, amplifying the sensation. His cock twitches again.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Shit</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he hears himself whining when the sensation starts to ease off, “Oh, God. Oh, fuck, that was so good.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Nureyev is still lying on his back flat on the floor, breathing heavily. “I have to say this broadened my horizons on the potentials of mutual masturbation.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His voice sounds loud now that it's actually physical rather than in Juno's head. Juno sits up and finds the napkins while Nureyev is still recovering. It feels weird, being self-conscious of himself after… </span>
  <em>
    <span>that, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but. Nureyev still hasn’t technically seen him naked, and Juno doesn’t really feel like crossing that barrier in the messy aftermath.</span>
</p><p>"I wonder how far it can go," Nureyev says. "Could you come without my having to touch myself at all? Could, perhaps, the mental link be pushed to travel both ways?" </p><p>Juno swallows and tucks himself back into his underwear, re-adjusting his pants, "Tell you what, 'reyev. We get out of here alive, and I promise you we'll experiment some more with it."</p><p>"Well," Nureyev sits up at last. "It's a good thing I have no plan on doing anything other than just that." </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have many ideas about continuing this so uh. Let me know if you want me to? </p><p>I KNOW THIS IS SET IN THE TOMB BUT IT DOESNT MENTION M*SMA IM SORRY I HOPE THIS DOESNT COUNT</p></blockquote></div></div>
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